


Suspension

by Brabblecure



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Hunter x Hunter - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Torture, Psychological Torture, Torture, hisoka - Freeform, illumi zoldyck - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:48:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25478665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brabblecure/pseuds/Brabblecure
Summary: Illumi lives to serve his parents. Once that’s taken away, what does he have left?
Relationships: Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck
Comments: 12
Kudos: 192





	1. Chapter 1

Illumi, around ten, had pitch black hair that stopped right before the helix of his ear. The young assassin-in-training had always wanted to grow it out longer than it was, and when he had brought the subject of his hair up with his mother, she immediately fell into hysterics, as she commonly did. His mother, Kikyo was sobbing and clinging onto his shirt. She rambled something along the lines of how happy it would make her to do his hair. Illumi didn’t mind, what his parents want, his parents got. It has always been that way. 

That’s how he had been trained, and now it was so deeply engraved into his consciousness that he barely even gave it a second thought anymore. He wasn’t even sure when the lines between free-will and obedience began to blur. 

He brought up the length of his hair with his father, and his father had told Illumi that he could grow his hair out once Illumi was skilled enough for it not to hinder him in combat. The challenge was greatly appreciated. His parents always knew what was best. 

Illumi had black eyes that were drained of want or desire for anything other than to succeed in any job he was given. He had that drilled into his head the moment he was welcomed into this world. He’d once overheard his father telling his mother that he couldn’t look Illumi in the eyes for too long without getting uncomfortable. Illumi took pride in being able to strike fear into the heart of his father, even if it wasn’t quite fear. 

However Illumi was 11 now, and hanging from two cold rusty chains that wrapped tightly around his wrists and were attached to the ceiling. A room specially designed for the sole purpose of torturing Illumi. There was little ventilation, it was difficult to breathe in the room, and sometimes Silva would light a few cigarettes, to let the smoke slowly fill the room. With no other options, the smoke would force its way into Illumi’s lungs. Just another method to sculpt him into the perfect killer. Even if it wasn’t the safest, his parents were using torture to build up Illumi’s immunity to things that could possibly be used against him in the future. Illumi was determined to abide by his parents methods. In fact, he could barely think of anything else anymore. All that mattered was pleasing his parents. All that filled his head was the orders his parents gave him, nothing less, nothing more. All that mattered was the Zoldyck name, and their safety. He was told that his death was insignificant if the rest of the Zoldyck’s were to live. It was imprinted into his mind the second he heard it.

Illumi’s father stood towering before him, his arms crossed with the same stern expression he always wore. Illumi admired him for having something like that, a face that made people never know what he was thinking about. One of the many reasons his father was the most admirable person he knew. His grandpa was second. His mom was third. Maybe she should be second, to be respectful?

Illumi’s deducting was cut short by a whip being cracked against his cheek. He briefly realized that he should have heard the whip coming before he felt it, or even sensed the incoming strike. However he was too caught up in his own selfish wants. He was disappointed in himself. He knew never to get distracted by such meaningless things again. He learned a lesson.

That’s all this was really, a big lesson. His father was the teacher, he was the student. As it had always been, and as it would always be. The torture he endured was simply him studying. Nothing more. There was no need to think of wether or not it was ‘fair’. There was no point in dwelling on the pain of the torture, because nothing could hurt Illumi as critically and personally as disappointing his parents. No, disappointing his family would set him off for weeks, like a train coming off of the tracks. 

“Illumi.” His fathers demanding voice made Illumi look up to meet his gaze, his father avoided meeting his eyes and instead looked to the whip in his hands. All previous thoughts vanished in a moment. Class was in session. “A target manages to capture you, he demands information about the family.” His father sets the stage for him. Lesson one.

Illumi nods carefully, he listens to each word as if missing a single syllable would end in his demise, his family’s demise. “I would never give up information about the family.” He said firmly. He speaks with a voice that doesn’t fit his blank expression, voice mindless and jovial.

His father sets the whip down on a steel table to his left. Illumi’s dark eyes follow the movement. “Your captor plans to torture you to get the information they want.” He picks up a knife off of the table, to Illumi, it looks more like a scalpel. The young assassin nods as if agreeing, though he had absolutely no choice. Silva puts the sharp end of the knife to the steel table and slowly drags it across the top. The shrill noise echoes through the torture chamber they were currently in. 

Illumi feels himself shudder involuntarily at the horrible sound, he resisted the urge to tsk at himself, he’d have to work on it. 

Silva takes a few long steps close to Illumi. Even with Illumi being hoisted up by the rusty chains, Silva towers over him. Fear and admiration immediately flows through the young assassins blood. “I will not tell them anything.” Illumi says determined, looking up at his father. He was trained to be ready to fight, kill, and die for the family. 

Silva stabbed the sharp scalpel into the bare pale flesh of Illumi’s right shoulder. As the searing pain spidered across the surface of his shoulder, then trickling down his forearms and climbing up his neck, Illumi felt a vein somewhere in his neck twitch. The pain seemed to sink into his muscles deeper, like a stone being tossed into a pond. This wasn’t the first time he’d been stabbed in training, however, that made it hurt no less. Illumi willed his eyes to stay open, staring into the icy cold eyes of his father. His father looking unmoved by stabbing his son. That thought went by fleetingly as the scalpel that was dug into his shoulder made its presence known again. He felt his eyes dampen and he leaned his head back slightly to keep himself from shedding tears.

Silva yanked the scalpel out of Illumi’s shoulder just as he thought he’d be able to compose himself in time. The pain made it hard for Illumi to keep his eyes open, and once again breathing steadily became a difficult task. “Never...” Illumi managed to get out without stammering. Silva barely missed a beat before he stabbed the scalpel somewhere deep into Illumi’s torso, most likely barely missing vital organs. Because he wanted to train him, not kill him. 

Illumi felt his neck and stomach tighten, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t stop the cough that erupted from his mouth. Blood leaving his lips and falling onto the cold stone floor. Pain seared through him again, lit his nerves on fire and his brain screamed for mercy of any kind. But he did not need mercy, he was a Zoldyck. He felt his lips close and he held his eyes open, staring back at his father. 

Silva’s lips twitched, he was pleased. As much as his trial seemed unendurable before, the weight was thrown off his shoulder at the knowledge his father was pleased. Silva walked back to the table, his footsteps simultaneously light as the rainfall and heavy as boulders being shoved off cliffs. His steps were completely silent, as a good assassins steps should be. But his presence was huge. 

Silva came back with the previous whip, he drawed it back, then snapped his arm forward. Illumi heard the whistle of the whip colliding with the air, he tensed his face, yet something in the young assassin told him that the whip wasn’t going to hit his face.

The assassin’s eyes widened as the whip finally made contact. It hit directly against the knife lodged in his chest, and shoved it to the side at a gruesome angle. A raging torturous ache sounded through Illumi’s body. His blood was pouring down his chest and onto the floor. 

Illumi’s emotions were like a locked chest. Only very few could get in. But Silva noticed the way Illumi’s nose scrunched up, and he knew it was possible to make Illumi talk.

The black haired boy watched as his father dropped the whip onto the floor and pulled the knife out of him again. Illumi wanted it to be over. He wanted to lie down. He wanted to stop. He wanted the pain to finally cease. But the image of his fathers disapproving face hurt catastrophically more than his body being possibly mutilated. Before he could even react, his throat was slit. Not enough to kill him, of course.

Illumi began to see colors blotting in his eyes. More blood pouring onto the floor. The cohesive sound of the red droplets hitting the cold stone floor was enough to make Illumi go insane. He briefly wondered how much blood he could lose before he passed out. 

Silva went back to standard whipping. He whipped Illumi once, and Illumi jerked, not expecting it. The chains rattled with the movement. He whipped him again, again, again. Illumi felt like he was on fire. If blood wasn’t already covering most his body, he would be beat red. 

“Tell me your family’s powers.” Silva boomed, whipping him after every word. Illumi kept his lips sealed shut, refusing to give up anything. Even though the pain was excruciating, he had to please Silva. He needed to. It’s all he could think about. Being a good assassin. It’s all he knew.

The whip coming in contact firmly with his chin made the black haired boy’s eyes blur. Not a sound escaped him. Make them proud. Make them proud. Make them proud. He repeated in his head like a mantra. Like it was the only thing keeping him in touch with reality.

Don’t disappoint. His motto, his words to live by. It seemed so simple. However, living up to this rule put Illumi through endless torture, physically and mentally. If he disappointed his family, everything he has worked for his whole life was meaningless. He needed this. He needed the Zoldyck’s, and his family, but something in him knew that they did not need him. 

His arms felt so weak, like he wouldn’t be able to hold them up on his own if not for the chains. 

“Now, escape.” Silva ordered. Illumi breathed out shakily. He barely had enough strength in his body to breathe. He pulled with his right arm at the chain and was met with blinding pain from the wound in his shoulder. He sucked in air quickly but managed to silence himself before any signs of pain slipped out. He struggled a little more, pulling with his left arm and begging for the pain searing through his torso to stop. 

Illumi heard the loud snap of the lock of his torture room being opened. Soon the door was pushed open with a loud creak. He looked up momentarily and was met with a single red dot staring back. His mother came to watch.

Illumi needed to impress them. He needed them to be proud. He needed to succeed. He needed to be perfect. He had to. He took a harsh breath in, storing it in his lungs tightly before yanking at the left chain with all the strength he had. The pain made his senses blur together. 

He heard creaking, gasping, and wet splashes of what he could assume was his blood. He felt his muscles contract, felt his breath leave his lungs, and he felt him come in contact with something wet, once again, probably blood. He didn’t see much however, just the corners of his eyes going black. He smelt his own sweat and the irony smell of blood.

Once he came to his senses, he was laying down. He wasn’t patched up in the slightest, but his parents were standing above him. He tried to sit up, but his mother’s hand, as well as mind-numbing pain, kept him down. He looked at her, then his father, and his father nodded once at him.

“You passed out. I’d be disappointed, but you held your own for most of your training so I’ll let it be. You’ll still be training while you heal though. No shortcuts.” His father then turned on his heel and walked out, his mother following suit. 

Illumi jerked out of bed, looking at his stomach and blinking at it. Perfectly intact and also not 11 years old. It was just a dream. He hadn’t had dreams about his past in a while. He was 26, he reminded himself. Illumi rubbed his eyes and turned to his left, only to be met with two yellow eyes looking at him. 

“Hisoka.” He acknowledged. Hisoka’s smirk only widened. There was barely an inch between them. Illumi briefly thought that Hisoka for sure was doing that on purpose, knowing Illumi liked personal space.

“Dear Illu~ Did you have a nightmare?” Hisoka questioned, leaning in even further. Even though the clowns voice did not deter from its normal smooth and cunning tone, something about it ticked Illumi off. The assassin shook his head no, and began thinking back on why exactly there is a magician sitting next to him in bed. 

It didn’t take him long to remember that Hisoka said something about fighting Illumi’s grandfather, and Illumi tried to kill him. Key word: tried. It didn’t exactly end appropriately. 

“Assassins don’t have nightmares.”

“Just like how you don’t have friends?”

“Precisely.”

Hisoka let himself snicker at him. The magician stood out of bed and was amused to find Illumi shielding his eyes. “What?~” if he were texting, he would have ended the word with a diamond symbol. 

“I do not wish to see you without any clothes on.” Illumi stated, before gently swinging his legs to the other side of the bed, with his back to Hisoka. He began getting his own clothes, scattered along the floor. He pulled them back on.

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with it last ni-“ Hisoka began his sentence, but it was ended prematurely by a needle flying past his shoulder. 

“That was a warning. Speak again and I will aim better.” Illumi threatened.

Hisoka wrapped a towel around his waist and called it a day. Moving back to sit next to Illumi on the bed. His iconic smirk sitting plain as day on his face. Illumi began to think to himself, Hisoka looked less like a creep when he didn’t have his hair up, or his makeup on. “What?” Hisoka said, crossing his arms. 

“Do you want to die, Hisoka?” Illumi asked, blinking at him. His eyes conveyed no emotion, and yet Hisoka always read him like a book. Why is that, Illumi wondered.

“Is that a threat or question?~” Hisoka cocked his head to the side, and leaned in closer to Illumi. Illumi leaned away. 

“A genuine question. I want to know. Why else would you seek battle with people who are more powerful than you?” The assassin blinked at him. To Hisoka, he kind of looked like a deer in headlights. 

“Huhu~ Well, the thrill is reason enough. It’s so boring fighting people who don’t have the slightest clue about combat, let alone Nen.” Hisoka animated his words by waving his hand around, his nails cutting through the air. 

Illumi made a faint noise, Hisoka came to recognize this noise as roughly translating to: ‘I don’t understand what you’re saying to me, but I can’t stand to hear you talk any longer.’ It made the magician snicker. He threw his arm around the assassin, watching as his nose scrunched up from being touched.

“You’re pretty for a boy. I’d think assassins would wanna be the height of masculinity.” Hisoka commented, taking a piece of Illumi’s hair and wrapping it around his finger. 

“Do you want to die, Hisoka?” Illumi said before pushing the clown away with his hand. 

“I already told you-“

“That was a threat.”

“Ah~”

Hisoka backed away from him but arched an eyebrow. “Why haven’t you killed me yet then? Not just attack me like usual, but seriously plan to take my life. You’ve got to admit that you’ve never seriously fought me.” He asked the assassin, almost pouting. Illumi looked at him like he was stupid for asking.

“It’s obvious. I haven’t been ordered to kill you. I have no reason to.” The long haired man answered and got up. He walked around the bed and surveyed the damage done to the room. He noticed that this was in fact, not his home, but heavens arena. The walls had cracks running along them, the ceiling had a light blown out, and there were needles and cards imbedded just about every where he looked. 

“And if you got an order to kill me?” Hisoka stood as well, thankfully, holding up the towel as he did. Illumi turned and looked at him coldly. His hair starting to float up a little. 

“I’d take you out before your blood had the chance to splatter.”

Hisoka felt a shudder pass through his body. “Mm~ I was hoping you’d say that.” Illumi scrunched up his nose and shook his head.

The assassin started collecting his needles from the room. He tucked them back into his outfit. “You are disgusting.”

“I guess I am~”

Hisoka finally put his clothes back on. Illumi watched as Hisoka pulled a corset onto his torso. Then, pulled it tight. Hisoka pulled on his costume. This one designed to make his torso look like a rubber ball. Who designed them, Illumi would never be able to figure out. The clown walked into the bathroom and began doing his hair up. Illumi followed him and began to brush his hair. 

“Will you help me Illu?~” Hisoka chimed whimsically. The assassin turned his head to watch the magician hand him a paintbrush. Illumi just nods at him. He placed down his hairbrush, which was perfect and had no hairs in it. He grabs the small brush from him and dips it into a small container of yellow face paint. He takes hisoka’s chin in his hand and gently draws on a star. Hisoka grins at him.

“It seemed rather easy for you to just paint on a star, without messing up. Just what are assassins trained in?” Hisoka teases. Illumi’s eyes glare at Hisoka without his head moving, then they go back down to fill in the star. Illumi rinses out the brush in the sink, then dips it into the magenta paint.

“Huhu~” Hisoka watched Illumi’s nose scrunch up as the paint drips onto the sink. Illumi hates when things are out of place. Everything needed to be pristine for him to be comfortable. 

The assassin put the paint brush down, resting it in the magenta paint. He let go of Hisoka’s chin to grab a wash cloth. He turned on the sink and wet it, before wiping down the sink until it was shiny. He walked out of the bathroom, throwing it in the hamper. 

Hisoka took the time to admire the way Illumi walked. He made absolutely no noise. His hair gently swaying from side to side as he moved. He walked with a cold elegance that oozed peril. It made another shiver climb down hisoka’s spine.

Illumi came back and looked at the now clean sink, and he sighed out, pleased with it. He picked back up the paintbrush and painted a magenta tear shape on Hisoka’s opposite cheek.

Hisoka’s yellow eyes followed Illumi’s movement as the assassin cleans off the paintbrush, and the sink again for some unknown reason.

“I am done.” Illumi turned around and left the bathroom. Once again Hisoka admiring the way he walked. The danger that surrounded Illumi, not to mention his delectable aura, well, it made Hisoka very happy. 

Once they were both ready for the day, the two killers sat at the kitchen table. The table was marble and spotless. As well as very expensive, as you’d expect from a floor master of heavens arena. Illumi felt comfortable at the pricy gorgeous table. It reminded him of the mansion.

The two deadly men often sat in comfortable silence. Illumi never minded silence, and Hisoka uses it to scheme. Thought if he really wanted, Hisoka could scheme while talking and being attacked from all sides. It didn’t matter to the clown.

Illumi blinked as the table underneath him began to vibrate. He blinked again, realizing his phone was ringing. He held a finger to his mouth to signal the magician to be quiet. He answered the phone after checking the number.

“Hello Father.” Illumi greeted, in the same voice he always had when he talked to his father. Hisoka would describe it as eager-to-serve. The magician rested his chin on his hand and leaned in to see if he could hear what his father was saying. He couldn’t.

Illumi’s eyes widened, more than Hisoka had ever seen. In fact, this was the most emotion he’d ever seen the assassin willingly give. His lips were parted, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes wide and disbelieving. 

The assassin mumbled out a quiet, “Y-..yes father I understand.” He hung up and placed the phone back down on the table.

“Are......” Hisoka trailed off, trying to think of the best angle to play in this unknown situation. “Something wrong?” He decided on.

Illumi looked down at his hands, “My father placed me on suspension.”


	2. A Peaceful Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hisoka finds a way to help Illumi relieve a little stress.

“My father placed me on suspension.”

Hisoka blinked at him for a moment as he took a second to scheme on what to say to the assassin. In an unexpected turn of events, Hisoka actually felt himself feeling a little bad for the dangerous man. He knew that the Zoldyck family meant everything to Illumi. 

And now, the assassin just sat there, staring at his own hands in disbelief, and what almost seemed like disgust. Hisoka didn’t recognize the expression. That was just vaguely uncomfortable for the older man, like the ominous illusionary feeling of a bug crawling on him. He was so used to being able to read Illumi like a book. And suddenly his guide had gone out the window.

The clown decided on what to say, and his lips parted to speak, “Dear Illu, is killing that important to you?” He asked. He knew it would tick Illumi off, but somehow he was more comfortable with an angry assassin then a disheartened one.

Illumi sighed heavily, and the magician expected to receive a look that said, ‘you are utterly incompetent’ but instead, Illumi looked sad. It made the breath catch in Hisoka’s throat. It just wasn’t Illumi. Hisoka felt like he was staring at a stranger, not an assassin he’d known for years. Normally, he never really talked to strangers. Or when he did, he’d kill them seconds later, so it mattered not what he said. But now that what he said could cost him potential days of fun, well, the risk made Hisoka dig his sharp nails against the sleek marble tabletop. They only left a faint scratch. Hisoka covered it with his hand to prevent Illumi from having a fit about the scratch, even though it wasn’t his table.

“I do not..remember doing anything wrong.” Illumi muttered, his eyes darted around like he was searching his memory. “I failed them.” He made a decision. Suddenly, Illumi stood. 

Hisoka’s yellow eyes followed the movement of Illumi standing without his head actually moving. “And what do you plan to do about it?” The magician asked, a spade implied at the end of his words.

“I will go home. I will apologize.” Illumi still somehow did not seem like himself. Even his aura was off. Hisoka squinted, why was this making him uncomfortable? The magician had never seen his friend so disturbed. But, as there always was with Hisoka, a thrill was present. Hisoka could feel a shiver slide down his spine. This situation was unknown, and therefore he didn’t know exactly what to do. That was dangerous, and danger was Hisoka’s favorite word.

He turned in his chair, “you’re going to apologize for something you don’t know if you did?~” he asked, standing as well. 

Illumi suddenly felt like he was a kid. He felt like he was no more then a sobbing boy hanging from two chains. His lungs tightened up and allowed no more easy breaths. One of his hands slowly drifted up to ghost over his shoulder, almost shocked to not find a scalpel in it. He breathed out shakily, his vision going blurry. He had to please them. He needed to. How could he have let himself disappoint them? He was a failure. What was his life purpose now? 

Illumi’s overthinking was stopped by Hisoka placing a hand on his shoulder. Illumi jerked and quickly whipped around, Hisoka barely dodged the needle that soared toward him. “Do you know how to drive a boat Illu?~” Hisoka asked.

As always, it sounded like he had something else planned, more levels to it than what you’d be able to see at first glance. However, asking if he could drive a boat out of no where was already suspicious. Hisoka had to of known that, and yet he asked anyways. The magician probably wanted him to overthink, there was a good chance it aided nothing to his plan, but Hisoka just liked to make Illumi put in the extra work for something simple. Despite himself, Illumi sighed.

“Naturally.”

-

The assassin didn’t honestly know what he was expecting when Hisoka asked him if he could drive a boat. But now that he was standing in front a ship, he genuinely started questioning what the magician had lured him into.

The two killers stood in front of a small ship. Made only for a day trip. There was only two layers, one being where the passengers would lay out or stand at the banister and watch the waves crash against the ships hull. Then the second layer was only a little higher than the first one, and it’s where the captain and crew would be. The boat was spotless and shimmered in the light of the hot, summer sun. The hull had the mark of the company printed onto it in a sleek black design, and two black strips running down the length of it. Illumi studied the ship and sighed, turning over to Hisoka. 

“Do you plan to take me on a pleasure cruise?” He asked the clown, tilting his head slightly to the side. Hisoka tsked and waved a hand in front of illumi’s face, that’s when the assassin noticed that he had painted his nails peach, with Texture Surprise or polish he wasn’t sure. 

The clown threw his arm over Illumi’s shoulder, and he leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Kill them all.”

Illumi shuddered a bit and his black, emotionless eyes darted to Hisoka, then to the boat. His hand twitched at his side. “I wasn’t ordered to.” 

“You’re already on suspension, what’s the damage? No one will know. It’ll be a great stress reliever.” Hisoka talked in a calmer, more straightforward and to the point tone then he normally did. He knew it would be easier to get through to Illumi if the assassin didn’t think he was lying.

Illumi would normally be able to easily brush Hisoka off. He normally would be able to tell the clown that this was a stupid idea and he’d try to kill him just like normal. But considering what happened that morning, and the nightmare he had about his past, Illumi was in the mood for a little therapy. Something he could just take care of mindlessly, that would make him feel like he was doing a good job. Like he wasn’t a failure, like he was still useful to the Zoldyck’s. 

Illumi clutched onto the Zoldyck’s, and they used him when they needed him. But to anyone who paid attention, it was obvious the Zoldyck’s really did not need Illumi. They had Killua, an all-star Zoldyck who was destined to be the heir and had so much potential. The experienced assassin had a lot of pent-up emotions about his little brother. 

On one hand, he loved him more than anything, and would die before he let something happen to him. Because that’s how he was trained, Illumi did not know it anymore, but a lot of his love for his family was purely derived from the cruel torture he endured. He wasn’t even capable of hating his family anymore. Then on the other hand, he wanted to be the heir so desperately. Finally, he’d have something in his life to control himself. But when killua was born, and it was decided and announced he’d be the heir. He remembered being in his torture room, and his father whispering to him, “this is what happens when you want for something.” 

So, with all of this in mind, the eldest Zoldyck son turned to the serial killer beside him, and asked him, “Did you buy us tickets?” 

“Of course~”

The ship started loading people on, so Hisoka pushed Illumi forward. The two killers strided up to the boat, and they oozed peril to any that passed them. Hisoka gave their tickets to an old man dressed in a tacky sailors uniform, and they were granted entry. They stepped onto the plastic walkway that led onto the boat. The water underneath them splashed and roared. 

“Can you stop holding on to me?” Illumi asked coldly, sending a glare toward Hisoka. The magician just pouted at him. 

“I’m in heels Illu!~ I could slip!” He reasoned and only held on tighter to the assassin, earning him a sigh.

They stood on the deck and looked around at their surroundings. There were bustling families and couples so excited to go on this trip, the sky was clear and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. It really was the perfect day for a relaxing boat ride. Illumi, knowing he was going to ruin it, felt exhilarated. Is this how often Hisoka felt? It was unnerving to think he shared an emotion of any sort with that freak.

A loud horn sounded and the boat was off, the rudder tossing water around as they drifted away from land. Illumi wouldn’t admit it, but he was itching to get started.

Once they were far enough away from land, Hisoka waved his hands eloquently through the air. “Whenever you’re ready~ I’ll pop all the life boats and destroy the life jackets.” He smirked and turned on his heels. Illumi just gave him a curt nod.

The assassin looked a little out of place, standing stiffly and looking like a deer in headlights. He started making his way toward the second layer where the crew was. He found steps that led there with a low hanging rusty chain across it and a sign that said ‘authorized personnel only’. 

Illumi stepped over it and continued walking up. He decided it would be more satisfying to kill them with his own hands, not needles. Soon enough, the out of place assassin was standing among the crew. He laid his eyes on the captain and decided that was a good place to start. 

“Excuse me.....uh...sir? You can’t be up here, passengers are only allowed on the deck.” A crew member made the mistake of placing a hand on illumi’s shoulder to stop him. Ah well, he was going to kill him anyways. The killer turned swiftly and swiped his hand across the crew members neck, watching as it was ripped off. The head tumbled onto the floor, and blood coating the body before it fell to the floor.

There was silence for a moment, the only thing being heard was the cheerful chatting of the passengers and the crashing of the waves beneath them. Then, there was screaming, yelling, and panic. Illumi killed the captain in a similar effective method before he could contact anyone and tell them. After that, the rest of the crew members suffered the same fate. Though Illumi stuck his hand through their body rather than decapitating them. For no particular reason. 

He jumped down from the top layer to where all the passengers were bustling about, the more observant ones were already in a panic from seeing Illumi kill the crew, and the oblivious ones began to panic due to Illumi’s blood stained clothes. However, if any of them tried to leave, they found them selves stuck in place by a mysterious invisible force.

Hisoka watched admiringly, holding his bungee gum in place for the more rowdy victims. He stayed still other than that, watching his Illu dart through and kill everyone on the boat. Some were granted a quick death by decapitating, others Illumi mutilated and ripped their body to shreds. Either way, it was clear Illumi was releasing his pent-up stress.

The smell of bodies burning up in the hot sun filled the clowns lungs. Blood was splattering everywhere, turning the pearly white boat into a scene out of a horror film, but worse. Gruesome screams from all ages were lost in the crashing waves. When the boat would rock, bodies, limbs, and severed heads would slide along the deck. 

In no time at all, there was one person left. A man, maybe in his 40’s with grey curly hair. He had fallen and Hisoka used bungee gum to stick him to the floor of the boat, wanting Illumi to save that one for last. For when Hisoka looked at that man, he saw the famous Silva Zoldyck. 

Illumi stood over the man, staring down at him. The same deer in headlights expression on his face, but covered in blood in entrails, he looked much more frightening. Illumi’s hands tightened into a fist. Years of torture and mind numbing training filled his mind. 

“This is all for your own good.”

“This is what happens when you want for something.”

“Your death is insignificant to the family.”

Illumi let out a tortured scream, blind rage filled his vision. Be good. Be good. Be good. Be good. Be a perfect assassin. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfectperfectperfectperfect-

Hisoka watched as Illumi’s foot went clean through the mans skull, as if it was made of butter. Blood shot back up and covered Illumi again. Hisoka muffled a groan. The massacre was over as soon as it began.

“Do you feel better, Illu?~” the clown asked, striding toward Illumi with a smirk on his face, looking over the damage he’d done. The assassin didn’t know what had came over him. Feelings he didn’t think he was allowed to have were rushing in from all sides. The feeling couldn’t be measured, but when the dust and adrenaline had settled, Illumi felt like he had been reset.

He blinked and turned back to Hisoka. “I am going to turn the boat back to shore.”

Hisoka breathed a sigh of heavy relief. Seeing the blankness return to Illumi, and all the time he spent learning to decode illumi’s emotionless face was no longer at a loss. And deep down inside of him, he was really glad Illumi wasn’t looking sad anymore. He briefly thought about how funny it was, the way things turned out. 

Hisoka reached one of his hands out and caught Illumi’s wrist, yanking him back toward himself. He grabbed Illumi’s other hand with his own before the black-haired man could throw a needle in protest. They were mere centimeters apart, Hisoka chuckled whimsically and pulled Illumi that much closer. Their lips inevitably meeting in the middle. The kiss was quick but in no way gentle. Hisoka dug his long sharp nails into Illumi’s wrists, enough to draw blood but the assassin had no reaction. 

Hisoka let go of one wrist and Illumi responded by gripping a hand full of the clowns bright hair and yanking it backward. Deciding to ignore the obnoxious noise that escaped Hisoka, Illumi stepped back once they were disconnected.

“Let’s go.”

The trip back to shore was mostly uneventful, Hisoka lounged out on the deck and basked in the smell of rotting bodies in the heat. Sometimes waltzing around in his heels to gaze upon the painful expressions on their faces, trying and failing to keep it in his pants. 

The boat pulled into shore and the killers jumped off of the boat, with their skills they didn’t bother with properly docking it. Some people who planned to board the boat saw the bloody massacre on the deck, and they were either killed or spared for the sake of saving time. Not that they had anywhere to be.

They arrived back at Heavens Arena, and Illumi let himself fall gracefully onto a black leather couch that was there. 

“I hate to admit it. But I enjoyed that. Very much. This does not solve the problem of my living situation.” Illumi stated like Hisoka hadn’t taken the briefest moment to take that into account. When in fact, it was all he could this about. He was very excited, in multiple ways, to see how this played out.

The clown already had a scheme, a plan, a cover story, and plenty of lies ready for when the right moment comes, whenever that may be, to present his little game to the assassin and to properly enjoy himself.

That’s all it was. That’s all it ever was. Just seeing what’s happening. Just wondering what the outcome of the situation will be innocently. He wondered how it would be to live inside of Illumi’s tortured mind. He admits, having access to the memories of Illumi’s torture as a child would have made him very happy.

But besides all of that, the real fun was just beginning.


	3. Get it out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of Illumi flashbacks and trauma in this one folks
> 
> Leave comments or Kudos!! I read every comment!!

“Live here with me then!~” Hisoka had said, leaning toward Illumi on the black leather couch. The magicians eyebrows were raised up and his eyes were grinning. There was a game. Illumi was sure of it. There always was with Hisoka. The magician loved to entertain himself with senseless little games and such.

Should he deny him outright? Or should he accept just to see exactly what this game was? Normal Illumi would have denied him without a second thought. An Illumi that wasn’t on suspension would have packed up and found somewhere else to live, but Illumi was on suspension. And he was so terribly curious.

So now, Illumi was ‘unpacking’ into Hisoka’s floor master suite in Heavens Arena. Supposed to be unpacking that is, he stopped midway through to clean. Their previous encounter had left them bloody, and not to mention the several fights they’ve had within the last few days. It was fair to say the room was looking a little rough There is cleaning supplies next to him as he squats down on the floor and scrubs away imperfections that cloud his thinking. After all, he still needed to figure out what Hisoka was planning. Speaking of Hisoka, he hadn’t been much aid to the cleaning.

The clown helped for a few short moments, using his Bungee Gum to grab onto cards imbedded into the wall, sending them back to himself, then shuffling them into a colorful deck. Then he stopped, and settled for playing a short game with Illumi while the assassin did all the work. Illumi would title this game, ‘How long can I go without the desire to end him: a never ending saga.’

“When was your first kill, Illu?~” Hisoka asked in a sing-song tone, observing the way Illumi was now cleaning up microscopic scuffs off the coffee table. The magicians arms were slung over the costly black dining room seat, sitting on it backwards to watch the show that was the Zoldyck’s creation.

“Why do you care?” Illumi said, his back to Hisoka. He answered quickly, and that told Hisoka he wanted to know the answer. He’d learnt to read Illumi like a book, not that he’d ever sit down to read a book. Possibly a magazine, if someone strong was on the cover.

“May I guess, then?” Hisoka said, delighted. He held up his finger and made a question mark out of his nen. The reason for this being, Illumi would sense the usage of his nen and turn to face him. Hisoka tsked at himself to admit, he really was quite the attention hog.

As expected, Illumi turned to him, bug-eyed and wary. He looked the question mark Hisoka created, then back at Hisoka himself. Illumi studied him only for a second longer before nodding. Cleaning could wait. There’s a game. He needed to figure it out. Not just this tiny game he’s playing right now. Big picture.

“Go on, guess.”

“13?~”

The assassin would’ve laughed, had his parents not forced emotions out of him. Instead he made a small noise in the back of his throat. Hisoka hummed, pleased with this answer and he smiled wider.

“Dare I say 10?” He cooed spinning around in the chair and standing up to be about eye level with the other man. Illumi once again blinked owlishly.

If he had killed at 10 for the first time, he’d consider himself a saint. He’d feel just a small amount better about himself. But no, killing at 10 years old was normal. He didn’t have any problems at all with it. It was natural. Reflexive. Sometimes, he’d forgotten he’d even done it.

He had killed. He knew because he was sitting in front of the corpse, with his legs crossed, staring into the lifeless face of his victim. He’s ten now, in this memory. This was a person in front of him. A living breathing person. They had goals, a life, plans, a family, people who would miss them, and he had killed them. He tore their heart out. And he looked between the corpse and the heart in his hand. It beated for a moment after he’d taken it. For a split second, he wanted to put it back. Fix his mistake. Fix it. Quick, before the target even realized he’d taken it. But then, he met the eyes of his father. 

His never moving, strong, father. He stared directly into his fathers cold icy eyes. Though there was no exact expression on Silva’s face, there was a wordless threat. It held Illumi accountable. If he messed up, there were consequences. And it would be fair to say that Silva would consider rushedly shoving a heart into a dead person would count as messing up. 

He stared into those threatening eyes until the heart in his hand stopped beating. Silva breathed out firmly and tossed him a bottle. Illumi recognized the color of it. Poison. He was normally forced to consume poison after a kill. He was told it was to build up his resilience to it. He’d be insane to deny his parents of anything. He’d be out of his mind to disappoint them. 

So, with a human heart in one hand, and poison in the other, a   
10 year old boy finished his 5,000th kill. 

He shook his head to get him back to the present. 

“I was much younger than 10 when I killed for the first time.” He deadpanned, acting as if he hadn’t relived a bittersweet moment from his past within a matter of seconds. Hisoka’s eyes smiled, and he tilted his head to the side.

“Really~! Do tell, Dear Illumi!~” The magician chimes with eager eyes, leaning in again. Illumi stared at him vacantly. Inside of his eyes were a thousand traumas no one should ever have to go through. But he was empty. For most people, one look into their eyes would reveal everything you needed to know about them. The opposite was true for Illumi. He showed nothing. He was perfect. He made sure of it. Not a hair out of place. Not an emotion out of wack.

“I was two.” Illumi stated, almost off handedly. Hisoka shuddered and smiled wantonly.

“Mhm~! Excellent Illu~” The clown steps closer and Illumi takes a step back. Hisoka just pouts and takes a glance around. The suite was now spotless, and time had ticked by, it was evening now and would be night soon. Hisoka took the time to notice tiny details, like the temperature of the room, which was a little chilly by the way. Illumi, who was wearing his signature green outfit with plenty of needles stuck in the vest. 

Speaking of, Illumi had a distant look in his eyes, well, he always did. But this time to Hisoka, he looked a little sad. The magician stepped closer and grinned.

“Well Illu~ we are all alone here...perhaps you would like to join me in a bit of one on one time~?” He held up his finger and made a heart out of his nen. Illumi stepped back and scrunched his nose up.

“Touch me, and I’ll kill you.”

“What a flirt~ but I meant a fight.” He smiled and booped illumi’s nose. As he did Illumi snapped his arm up and grabbed his wrist, breaking his arm. He said slower.

“Touch me. I will kill you.” Illumi stared holes into him, his nails coming out and starting to dig into him, feeling the magicians blood drip down his fingers. Hisoka just shuddered.

“Those sound like invitations~ huhu~” he stepped closer. Illumi made a noise in the back of his throat, an angry grunt before Hisoka’s view was blurred.

Illumi had punched him in the face. Before he fell, since the punch was powerful, he sent out Bungee Gum to catch himself, he shot back up and contracted. He was now squatting on his ceiling upside down. He smiled at illumi.

The assassin slowly turned to see him on the ceiling. “I will fight you, since you’re so insistent on it.” 

Hisoka smiled giddily, “mmhm~” he dropped off the ceiling and landed on the floor with a click as his heels made contact.

“I’ll tell you what~ If you can plant a needle inside of me, I will count it as your win, and we can spend the day however you’d like. Moping around, crying over being suspended—“

“I do not cry.”

“—eat at a fancy restaurant....anything at all! Anything that little assassin heart desires.”

Illumi thought that was a funny phrase. He didn’t laugh though, of course not. He wasn’t even sure if he could laugh. Maybe a villainous esque laugh, that forced its way out of his gullet despite protests. He’d probably be capable of that

‘Anything that little assassin heart desires.’

It was pitch black, he couldn’t see a thing. He didn’t feel his long hair on his back and realized he was most likely reliving another event of his childhood. What was up with him today.....

It was less like reliving, and more like watching a movie. Through his own eyes, he was helpless and watching. He could hear his own thoughts as clearly as characters talking on television. His thoughts were limited. Panicked, yes. But they mostly consisted of the same thing.

‘Be good, be good, be good, be good, be good, make them proud, make them proud, make them proud.’

He watched this movie like segment of his life through his own eyes. He couldn’t see, but he could feel wood against his finger tips and the soles of his feet. He was trapped. Judging by the material, most likely in a wooden box.

He heard a whistle, a whistle that wasn’t a whistle. He was confusing himself now. If this was an actual movie, Illumi would want to stop and replay, to figure out what was going on.

He did that with real movies all the time. Hisoka had refused to watch any mystery movie with him, because the assassin would pause the movie and overanalyze everything. It was no fun watching a movie when it’s spoiled within the first ten minutes of it.

Then it clicked, the whistle (or rather, non-whistle) was the sound of something swinging through the air, and before he knew it, light shot into the small box. A hole had been made. 

This was evident because now a sword that he had barely dodged was pressed against his side. Ah, yes. He remembers clearly now.

Training. He was locked inside of a wooden box, there was no light. And his father would shove swords and knifes through the box. Illumi had to use his hearing, wit, and intuition to survive. Did it always go to plan? Absolutely not.

He remembered in that moment what ‘his little assassin heart desired’

And it was a hug. He wanted a hug.

The thought made him want to vomit. To carve his insides out. To peel his skin off, release him of it. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. 

Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. 

Get it out.

“Illumi??” Hisoka was snapping in his face, whining. “Are you gonna fight me, or not?”

The assassin found himself breathing heavily. His eyes searched hisoka’s face, and he hated to admit it....but he was happy to see him. It told him he wasn’t alone. He didn’t have to do it alone. 

What?  
What is this?  
Why is he feeling this? Not again. Get it out. It’s because he must’ve spent too much time from home. Get it out. He needs to be restrained. Get it out. He’s disappointing them. Get it out. 

Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. Get it out. 

Please, get out.


End file.
